


If these scars don't fade

by orphan_account



Series: Porcelain [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Naked Cuddling, Scars, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26580253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was a funny story, really. Catra came back from one of her meditation sessions with Perfuma, barging into their room and out of the blue said, “Perfuma wants us to sleep naked!”. Adora was so surprised at the time that she stared at her for a solid minute before laughing her ass off.  Perfuma didn’t really said that to her, of course—she had advised Catra to let herself feel vulnerable by doing something she’s most uncomfortable with. And Catra’s idea of “feeling uncomfortable” was being bare naked.Adora thinks she understands why, nowTw: Mentions of self-harm, abuse
Relationships: Catra/Adora
Series: Porcelain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937410
Comments: 5
Kudos: 188





	If these scars don't fade

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Porcelain by Mxmtoon and also the [fanfiction](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13205013/1/If-these-scars-don-t-fade) i made when she ra very first started : 
> 
> Disclaimer : NO, this is NOT meant to romanticize self-harm and scars. It's about accepting your old scars and moving past it !! so please don't take this the wrong way . Self harm scars are like permanent tattoos that remind you of things that would trigger you most of the time and they're actually VERY hard to get over,,, so yeah <3 be nice to yourself folks <3

_My skin is a story_ _  
With marks and lines  
It makes me feel weary  
  
My face is like a galaxy  
With spotty freckle stars  
No sense of gravity  
  
_Adora watches Catra’s chest rise and fall as she breathes, her hair shining golden from the lights that came in from the cracks of their bedroom window. She ran her fingers along her hair gently, careful not to wake her up. Her bare skin against hers underneath the covers—it all felt so new to her.  
  
It was a funny story, really. Catra came back from one of her meditation sessions with Perfuma, barging into their room and out of the blue said, “Perfuma wants us to sleep naked!”. Adora was so surprised at the time that she stared at her for a solid minute before laughing her ass off. Perfuma didn’t really said that to her, of course—she had advised Catra to let herself feel vulnerable by doing something she’s most uncomfortable with. And Catra’s idea of “feeling uncomfortable” was being bare naked.  
  
Adora thinks she understands why, now. Seeing her pure naked body laid out in front of her eyes, seeing her neck, her back, her inner thighs, covered with scars and burns.  
_  
Even with the good_ _  
The bad feels so much stronger  
My inner demons always win  
And in my mind they saunter_  
  
The first time Catra tried to do this, she cried. She didn’t show it, of course—but Adora saw it, the red spots in her eyes, when she walked out of the bathroom naked. Adora didn’t mention it to her, or ask her what happened. All she did was kiss Catra’s forehead, took off her clothes like she did, and slid into the bed with her. She didn’t want Catra to be alone. And now Adora realizes—she hated being naked, too. It made her feel exposed. Vulnerable. Unprotected.  
  
Catra shifts from her position and frowns, slowly opening her eyes. She took a while to register what was happening, and where she was—Adora recognizes that as a battle reflex. She squints at the window for a moment before turning to Adora, smiling in relief. “Hey, Adora.”  
  
Adora couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Hey, Catra.”  
  
“Good morning.” She yawns. “What time is it? Why is it so bright outside?”  
  
“I don’t know. The sun?” Adora answers dumbly. Catra snorts.  
  
“How long have you been up before me?” Catra asks, struggling to untangle herself from Adora to sit up. “Man, Bow better be cooking something good. I’m hungry.”  
  
“Hey,” Adora caught her arm, holding her down. “Stay?”  
  
Catra pauses to frown at her. “Why?”  
  
“Just… stay. Lay down here with me for a while.” She says, nudging her. “Please?”  
  
Catra sighs, seeming to think about it for a moment before laying back down with her. “Fine, I’ll stay. For you.”  
  
“For me,” Adora smiles at that, shifting her body to wrap her arms around Catra. It took a few adjustments before they finally settle down, limbs entangled around each other. “Is this okay?”  
  
“Mm. Yeah.” Catra shrugs, looking anywhere but her eyes.  
  
Silence.  
  
Adora caressed her fingers through one of the scars on Catra’s shoulder, gently hovering her hand over it, as if it was still an open wound. Catra shudders at that, but she didn’t say anything to make her stop. She travels her finger further, trailing to her back, where the more visible marks are—how many of these are caused by the war? Hordak? Horde Prime? Shadow weaver?  
  
_So many things_ _  
That i've come to hate  
Line my body  
And caress my face  
I feel so frail  
And empty too  
Like a china tea cup  
With dried out glue_  
  
Catra flinches when her fingers reached a scar on her forearm. She jolts up and moves away from Adora, her body curled up in a defensive gesture. “Stop—”  
  
“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Adora sits up with her. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”  
  
Catra took a moment to calm down, watching her with a judging look before flopping back down to bed, deciding that she could trust her.  
  
“I’m sorry that happened.” Adora repeated, slowly laying back down to bed as if she was afraid to scare her. “I won’t try to do anything you’re not uncomfortable with, I promise.”  
  
Catra nods. “Okay. I trust you.”  
  
It was a simple word, but it made Adora beam with happiness. _Catra trusts her._ “Do you… do you want to see mine?” She asks.  
  
“What? Why?” Catra frowns. “What—what are we doing this for, Adora?”  
  
“It’s just… you know, what Perfuma said to do.” She says. “I’m just trying to get out of my comfort zone for a while and… what did Perfuma say? ‘Be okay with being vulnerable’ and all that jazz.”  
  
“Hm.” Catra raises an eyebrow, but she didn’t ask any further. “Okay. Let me see you.”  
  
“Okay.” Adora put her arms in the air to reveal the scars around them. “I have this lighting shaped scar on the back of my shoulder from getting electrocuted one time.”  
  
“What? Yours get to be lighting shaped?” Catra asks, moving to take a look at her shoulder. “No, that’s not lighting shaped.”  
  
“It’s not?” Adora looks over her shoulder. “It is!”  
  
“That is _not_ lighting—if anything, it looks like a snake.” Catra smirks.  
  
“No it doesn’t, it’s lighting!” Adora slaps her arm playfully. “Oh my god, you’re the worst. Just let me be cool for once.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” Catra laughs. “It’s lightning shaped. You can be cool.”  
  
Adora huffs, smiling at her. “You’re impossible.”  
  
“I know.” She agrees, her eyes travelling down from her shoulders to her back. She found a scar and pressed it gently with one finger. “What about… this one?”  
  
“Oh, that?” Adora says, feeling Catra’s finger on her back. “I don’t know. Forgot about that one—a tree branch, maybe? I remember going on a mission to like, this one part of the Whispering Woods that are covered with thorns. All over them—the trees, the bushes—it must’ve been one of them.”  
  
“Oh.” Catra just nodded. How could Adora be so open about them? Catra could never. “How about… this?” She presses her finger again, and Adora shivers this time. She quickly pulled away, scared of triggering her. “Fuck, I’m sorry—did it hurt?”  
  
“No, I’m just—oh, god, I definitely could still feel that one,” Adora says, shuddering.  
  
“I’m sorry—I didn’t know—“  
  
“—No, no, hey it’s okay,” She quickly assured her. “It’s fine, it was just—what did they call it? Ghost pain?”  
  
“Ghost pain?”  
  
“I don’t know, something like that,” Adora tells her. “They told me that some scars are just marks, but some, they… they leave pain behind too. The scars that leave the pain, they’re called ghos—oh! No, they’re called phantom pain. I think. I forgot.”  
  
“Phantom pain.” Catra repeats. _That’s what they’re called?  
_  
“Yeah.” Adora smiles. “They don’t really hurt that much though, it’s okay.”  
  
Catra trails her fingers further down her back, tracing the shape of every scar visible. Why are there so many? Couldn’t She-ra heal them completely?  
  
That was until she saw it.  
  
The three pink claw marks, on Adora’s back. They fit her hand so perfectly, it was disturbing. That’s because she did it, right? She made that scar. Adora’s scream replayed in her mind, her expression of terror and pain and betrayal tattooed on her memory.  
  
Catra backs away.  
  
“Catra?” Adora calls. “Hey, are you okay? Catra?”  
  
“I—” She tries to even her breaths, trying to take back the control of her body. It was Adora’s scar, dammit, not hers—she _made_ that scar. Why is she the one getting triggered?  
  
“Catra,” Adora turns around to face her. She reaches her hand to wipe the tears that spilt out of her eyes. “Hey, hey—what’s wrong?”  
  
“The scar,” Catra whispers. “The scar, on your back—that was mine. I made it.”  
  
“Oh.” It took a moment for her to realize it. “Oh, Catra. It’s—it’s okay. It’s okay.”  
  
Catra couldn’t help but laugh at Adora's ridiculous attempt to comfort her, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “Geez, Adora, thanks for making me feel better.”  
  
Adora laughs with her—it was a bit funny, she admits. “But seriously, though, it’s okay.”  
  
She gave her a look. “Are you—Adora, are you serious?”  
  
“Yeah? I mean—it was a long time ago, anyway.” Adora shrugs. “It’s okay, really. We were stupid back then, both of us. But… we’re not anymore now. So.”  
  
“Do you think so?” Catra whispers. “Do you really think I’m a good person now?”  
  
“Well, no bad person would ask that question, would there?”  
  
She shrugs. “I guess not.”  
  
“There you go.” Adora smiles. “Come lay back down here with me.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Catra couldn’t stop staring at Adora’s scars.  
  
Why were there so many? All the way down her back, in all shapes and sizes. Some are faded, some are clear as day. She traced them all with her fingers, trying to feel them. What was it like to be Adora? Carrying the weight of the world—no, scratch that, the _universe_ —on her back? Catra had never asked that before. Sure, she’s had it tough, but Adora… she couldn’t even begin to imagine it.  
  
“Can’t She-ra get rid of them?” Catra asks. She didn’t want Adora to live with them forever. “The scars—can’t you heal them? I mean, you brought me back from the dead, you should be able to do heal a few scars.”  
  
“Wait, I what?” Adora frowns, turning around to face her. “I didn’t—you weren’t dead, Catra.”  
  
“It felt like it, for a moment.” She shrugs. “Remember, when you first brought me back from the—from the—” Catra’s words stuck in between the sentences. It’s been almost a year, and yet she still couldn’t manage to fully say his name without choking a sentence.  
  
“Yeah,” Adora placed her hand over hers. “Carry on?”  
  
Catra was thankful for that. She continued, “Well—I felt like I was dead. For a second. I mean, I saw you glowing and it was like I was detached from my body and then—I don’t know, and then it’s like you tugged me back into my body. It’s like you didn’t want to let me go.”  
  
“I didn’t.” Adora says, her blue eyes staring right into hers. “I couldn’t imagine a universe without you, you know. I didn’t want to.”  
  
“Good, because me neither.”  
_  
I am made of porcelain_ _  
Cracking now and then  
It wears me down_  
_  
I am made of porcelain_ _  
I look okay but I am breaking down  
Over and over again  
Over and over again.  
_  
They stayed like that for a while, just lying on the bed, staring at each other. Adora’s fingers playing with the strand of hair that fell over her forehead, sharing small smiles and blushes and silent laughs.  
  
If Adora can be so open about her scars, why can’t she? Catra couldn’t stop thinking about it.  
  
Catra kicked the covers off her shoulders instead. She sat up, so abruptly that Adora sat up with her.  
  
“Catra?” Adora frowns.  
  
“Look, I don’t have pretty lightning-shaped scars like yours,” She couldn’t help but laugh a little at how ridiculous it sounded, “but—I have them. And I’m not sure why I want you to see them, or why you would want to see them, but I can’t get it out of my head, and I—”  
  
“Hey.” Adora placed a hand in her shoulder. “I understand. Don’t sweat it too much, okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” Catra nods. “Okay.”  
  
_Stretches and patches  
Corrupt my flesh  
Slowly eating away  
Any confidence that's left_

 _I really wish  
I wouldn't let  
My appearance  
Dictate how much i fret  
_ _Because they say what's inside is what really matters._

  
She rested her head on Adora’s shoulder, feeling her fingers tracing her back like she did before. This time, she tried not to flinch. “Remind me why you wanted to do this again?”  
  
“I just thought… I know it’s going to sound stupid, but—I’ve always thought that these scars were a burden. It just felt _so_ _heavy_ , having them.” Adora tells her. “And I thought that… maybe, if we carry them together, it won’t be as heavy anymore.”  
  
“Do you really think so?”  
  
“We can find out.” She says. “How—how many of these are mine, Catra? How many of these are caused by me?”  
  
“Directly or indirectly?” Catra asks without hesitation, only to realize that she shouldn’t have said it when she saw the look on Adora’s face.  
  
“Huh?” She frowns. “What—what do you…?”  
  
“Nothing,” Catra shook her head quickly. “What were we talking about again?”  
  
But Adora knew _exactly_ what it meant. She’s been around long enough to know that Glimmer used to… _hurt_ herself, to put it into better words. She’d do that whenever she gets upset or disappointed in herself—Self-harm, they call it. And Bow had said something about indirect causes—something that causes harm indirectly to a person, whether they mean it or not. Either mentally or physically. Had she been that? Had she hurt Catra indirectly? Did Catra—god, did she—  
_  
__But I really can't  
Seem to ignore  
The parts of me  
That I abhor  
It makes me feel like I am weak and battered_  
  
“Adora?” Catra calls, wiping the tear that slid down her cheek. “Hey, c’mon—why are _you_ crying?” She laughs a little at that.  
  
“I—your hurt yourself, didn’t you?” Adora whispers, checking every inch of her arms for more scars. “Because of me?”  
  
Catra sighs. “It’s stupid, I know.”  
  
“No, it’s not—that’s not what I meant,” Adora shook her head. “I just… I never knew. God, Catra, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for this.”  
  
“Hey, come on now. No. This isn’t how it goes.” Catra says firmly, holding her chin up with one hand. Her thumb traces the faint scar on Adora’s cheek, the one from when they were kids—long before the war had even started for them. “This scar, the ones on your arms, your back—I hurt you too, remember? We did that to each other a lot. I guess we’re even now, huh?”  
  
“I don’t—I don’t like this,” Adora’s voice cracks when she says it. “This hurting game—can we stop doing it? Forever?”  
  
“We already are, silly.” Catra chuckles, pressing a kiss on her shoulder gently. “All we have to do now is just forgive each other and try to move past it.”  
  
“I guess, yeah.” She took a shaky breath. “Do you think… do you think it’ll be better if they all disappear? The scars? Do you think it’ll be easier to forget them?”  
  
“Forget them.” Catra repeats. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”  
  
“No?” Adora frowns. “Why?”  
  
“Because… they remind me of how badly we both messed up to each other.” She says. “But even then, in the end, we’re still here anyway, right? Together. Even all the shit we went through, the things we’ve done to each other. The universe had done its worst to separate us, Adora—but yet we’re still here anyway.” Catra looks up at her, and Adora smiles, tears pooling in her eyes. Eyes so full of love. “And even if it _haven’t_ done its worst—I know we’ll get through it anyway. No matter what. Because we’re us.”  
  
_I am made of porcelain  
Cracking now and then  
It wears my down  
_  
“Catra and Adora, friends turned enemies turned lovers, whose love saved the entire fucking universe?” Adora laughs.  
  
“I guess that’s us, now.”  
  
_I am made of porcelain  
I look okay but I am breaking down  
Over and over again  
Oh, over and over again.  
  
  
( And that’s okay ). _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey !! if you like my fics, please consider this checking [this](https://lesbian-arsonist-blog.tumblr.com/post/629325455315566592) out !! :
> 
> thank u and stay safe !!


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